


Alarm Clock

by overcastskeleton



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Birthday Sex, F/M, Fluff, Smut, oral sex (female receiving), this is really soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 06:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19847413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcastskeleton/pseuds/overcastskeleton
Summary: Just some soft morning sex





	Alarm Clock

**Author's Note:**

> This is really different than the things I usually write, so I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you guys think!

It’s not the kisses that wake you up that cool autumn morning, or the gentle patter of rain against the large windows that stream grey light into your bedroom. 

It’s the silence that permeates the small Brooklyn townhouse.

Silence like this is hard to come by- has been ever since your daughters came into the world four years ago. 

It lulls you out of your sleep, and you soak it in. Feel it sink deep into your bones. It reminds you of late mornings spent lazily in bed with your lover. Of quiet giggles and soft kisses exchanged in the morning glow. 

_ Yes _ , stillness like this is hard to come by, so you bask in the serenity...or at least, you try to. Because, the kisses from your husband are becoming more and more insistent. And with them come soft, fleeting touches. 

It’s a brush of fingertips against the base of your spine, lingering kisses along your shoulder. They’re slow displays of affection,  _ and impatience _ . 

Bucky’s awake, and he knows you are too. 

You indulge him, rolling onto your back to face him, and are greeted with a kiss that pulls the last remaining traces of sleep from your body. 

“Good morning,” you whisper, voiced cracked with sleep. 

A small smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Morning, doll.” He leans in, dry lips meeting yours again briefly. 

These are the moments you miss, stolen kisses and sleepy smiles. 

“Happy Birthday,” he whispers, pulling away.

_ Was it really? _ You wonder, eyebrows furrowed. 

Bucky presses a teasing kiss to the wrinkles on your forehead. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your own birthday, doll.”

“Must’ve gotten lost among the other thousand important dates whirling around in my head.” You shrug. “Can I interest you in a soccer game, or a ballet recital?” 

He chuckles. “Hope you haven’t forgotten  _ my  _ birthday.” 

You pretend to be offended. “Course not. That one’s in my calendar,” you tease, digging your elbow into his stomach playfully.

Bucky shakes his head, blue eyes dancing. “I don’t know how you do it.” He shifts so he’s propped up on his elbow, looking down at you like you hung the moon.

It makes you smile a little bashfully and look away. “Yeah, well evidently I don’t remember everything. Try as I might,” you jest, squirming under the attention and his intensely loving gaze. 

“That’s why I’m here to remind you.” Bucky kisses you again. 

This time his lips part yours, and his hand comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your head as he deepens the kiss. You wrap your fingers in his soft t-shirt, pulling him on top of you. His dark hair tickles your cheek, and you laugh quietly, tucking the strands behind his ears. 

Bucky leans his forehead against yours, soft chuckles falling from his lips. 

“I miss this,” you break the short silence. “Spending the mornings with you,” you clarify upon his confused look. 

His fingers rub your hips. “What you mean you don’t  _ love _ running after our girls every morning?” He raises his eyebrows playfully. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I do.” You play with the wedding band hanging from the chain around his neck. “But you’re definitely my favorite alarm clock, James.” 

Bucky grins so widely his eyes crinkle. “You’re mine too,” he says quietly, and the loving look is back once again. 

You initiate the kiss, lifting your head until your lips are pressed lightly against his own. He makes a small noise of contentment, nudging your nose slightly with his own as he pressed you down into the mattress. His hands skim your sides, metal fingers twisting the material of the tank top you wore to bed. 

You sigh against his lips as his actions raise goosebumps along your skin. “James, the kids will be up soon.” 

His lips travel across your jaw and down your throat. “No they won’t. I wore them out last night for this exact reason.” 

You recalled the late night wrestling match in the living room the previous evening. “Smart,” you whisper, and it comes out more like a breathless moan.

“Should buy us another thirty minutes.” You can feel his mischievous grin against your collarbone. “If we’re quick enough.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem for you then,” you joke, already tugging at his shirt. 

Bucky pinches your side in retaliation, and you squeal. “I’ll get you for that later,” he promises, pulling the collar of your tank top down to get to your breasts. 

Whatever smart remark you’re about to make dies in the back of your throat as Bucky teases your nipple with his teeth. You suck in a deep breath, tangling your fingers into his messy black hair. 

He’s always known exactly what to do to get you turned on in an instant. Even after so many years of being together, a single touch from him can still ignite that live wire deep inside of you. You really hope this feeling lasts forever.

Bucky leaves your shirt collar more than a little stretched, and trails kisses down your stomach. His hands roam your body, grabbing and caressing every curve. You moan as his fingers find the waistband of your panties, tugging them down ever-so-slightly so his lips can brush against your hip bone. 

His kisses to your inner thighs are a bit rougher. His teeth nip the skin and blood rushes to the surface, painting lovely bruises he’ll dote on later tonight. The pain and pleasure of it all makes you dizzy, and your hands grip his shoulders, scrabbling for purchase. 

You’re hardly aware of him removing your panties, or the low growl in his chest when he sees your folds, dripping with your arousal. You’re only painfully aware that this is not enough, that you want him,  _ need  _ him, in every way possible. 

“ _ Bucky _ .” His name is a whine on your lips. “Not enough time.” You try to pull him up to you, but he’s not having it. He makes another mark on your thigh, closer to your aching core, and this time  his name is a heady whimper . 

“There’s always enough time for this, doll.” Bucky mumbled, dragging his lips closer and closer to where you need him the most. 

He’s teasing you. You can almost feel the smirk on his lips, see the playful glint in his eyes. His mouth brushes against your folds, and you jump, so keyed up that the tiny touch sends a thousand volts of electricity through your body. 

Bucky smiles, and pulls you closer to him, throwing your leg over his shoulders. You’re squirming now, hips bucking upwards hoping for a fleeting touch of his lips on you; so impatient and hungry, The sight of you like this makes him lick his lips; he’s always loved when you were desperate for him. 

He flicks the tip of his tongue against you experimentally, getting only the faintest taste of your sweetness.  _ It’s not enough _ , he decides, licking a broad stripe up your folds. 

You moan, loud and reedy, thighs closing around Bucky’s head.

“Shh,” he admonishes teasingly, but how foolish of him to actually think you could stay quiet with his head buried between your legs. “Don’t want the girls interrupting, now do we?” 

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip so harshly, you might have worried about drawing blood if you were in your right mind. 

Bucky parts your folds with his fingers, and presses his lips there in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. Your hips buck up against his lips instinctively, searching for the sensation again. Thankfully, you don’t have to wait long, as his lips are on you once again making obscene noises as he drinks up all you have to offer. 

You’re a moaning mess, one hand over your mouth muffling your cries, the other tangled in Bucky’s hair, tugging him almost impossibly closer. He places a hand on your heaving breast, massaging the soft skin, his thumb brushing over your nipple. Your breath hitches when he pinches the pebbled nub, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. 

Your orgasm is swiftly approaching. Bucky can tell from your fast breathing, and how desperately you’re grinding your cunt onto his chin. Your thighs, tense and shaking, tighten around his head.  His name is now a soft, repetitive plea . 

Bucky sucks your clit harshly- a mix of teeth and tongue culminating in a gentle assault on the already throbbing bundle of nerves. It almost makes you scream, and you would have, if your orgasm hadn’t shocked you into silence.

Your back arches as the waves of pleasure hit you, mouth opening in a silent scream. You’re thrashing, quite literally, as Bucky’s tongue continues to lash against you throughout your orgasm. It’s too much, the sensation of falling over the edge, coupled with Bucky’s relententless thoroughness. You fall limp against the mattress, air rushing into your lungs with a gasp. You somehow find the strength to pull Bucky from the hallowed space between your thighs.

He comes away with a  _ pop _ . A final reminder of just the effect he had on your body. 

You taste yourself on his tongue when he kisses you. It’s raw and tangy, filling up your senses one by one, and you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t turn you on. 

You’re impatient again, hungry for Bucky to fill you up. He can feel it in the way you yank at the bottom of his shirt, uncoordinated tugs in an attempt to get it over his head. Bucky breaks the kiss and pulls the intruding fabric over his head. He tugs his boxers off, kicking them off of his legs. 

He’s as needy as you are. 

The both of you moan as he fills you in a slow thrust. A low moan of satisfaction as he sheaths himself in your warmth. His head falls against your chest, breath coming out hot and embarrassingly shallow against your breast. 

“Fuck,” Bucky mumbles, fingers tightening on your hips in a death grip. 

You hold him against you, the heels of your feet digging into the back of his thighs. You want him as deep as he can possibly get, until you can’t remember where you end and he begins. The stretch is delicious, a reminder that no matter how many times you do this it can still feel like the first time.

Bucky moves, a slow rhythm at first, that picks up in speed and roughness as he absolutely loses himself inside of you. His lips are all over you, searching for soft patches of skin. It’s then that he rips your camisole, tears at the neckline until it tears. You don’t even have the sanity to scold him for it. 

Your nails drag against his back, leaving raised lines that will probably be healed by the time this is all over. Bucky hates that, wishes you could mark him up the way he does to you. 

It has the desired effect though, Bucky thrusts into you harder. The bed squeaks loudly, the headboard hits the wall, you’re both too pent up to care. 

It’s fast, quicker than either of you would have liked. But hot, so genuinely hot that the steaminess almost makes up for the speed. 

Bucky catches your lips in a messy kiss as he plunges into you again and again. You can tell from the sloppiness that he’s close, and you’re not far behind. Your lips travel along his jaw, looking for the one spot by his ear that always makes him unravel. He tenses as you find it, and curses in your ear. 

You know every one of his weaknesses. Before, it would have scared the shit out of him. Now, it makes him feel secure. And it’s in that security that he gives you everything. 

His hips stutter, as he fills you with deep thrusts. A cracked whisper of your name is all the warning he gives before flying over the edge, and dragging you down with him. 

“Bucky,” you whisper, and it’s all over in a shudder. You have him in a death grip, legs tangled in his own, arms still secure around his shoulders.

He’s still rocking against you shallowly as you milk him till the last drop. He falls against you, arms catching himself before his body weight can crush you. “Jesus.” Bucky whispers in your ear, completely blissed out. “Happy birthday,” he says as an afterthought. As if he’s suddenly remembered the reason he woke you up so early. 

You laugh, fingertips dancing along his shoulder. “Thank you.”

There’s an unspoken agreement to bask in the stillness of the morning together. Though it doesn’t last long, for soon the quiet morning is broken by the gentle patter of little feet, and excited giggles. 

“Right on time.” Bucky chuckles lifting himself off of you and searching for his shirt. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my tumblr: starks_towers


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